Monday, December 16, 2013

A peek into my 'other messages' folder


I'm sure most of you are familiar with Facebook. If you've ever used it in your life, you'll know all about sending and receiving private messages on it. And if you've spent enough time in your messages folder, you'll know about the strange, shady and embarrassing area that no one voluntarily treads upon:


Surprisingly, not many people are aware of this particular phenomenon. I myself didn't discover this nifty little mini-horror section of Facebook till around last year. The other messages folder is basically the thing you see here:

That's a screenshot of my inbox with the arrow pointing to how you can get into your 'other messages' section.

I honestly wish I had never come across this monstrosity.

I remember the day it happened. I was browsing Facebook through my phone, looking for an old message a friend had sent me. Instead of 'older messages' I accidentally hit 'other messages'. I had previously never even taken that link's existence into consideration. I thought it was just an extension of older messages. Little did I know of the terrible things it contained...

I clicked the link. Suddenly, the number of unread messages I had were 56. FIFTY SIX? I had never had so many unread messages in my life. I was thoroughly confused. Imagine how my confusion increased when I saw this message at the very top:

All I could think of was, 'what the hell is this shit?' As I scrolled further and read the utter ridiculousness in there, it dawned upon me that I was not in the 'older messages' section - rather, this alien place was called 'other' and had some extremely disturbing content that I hadn't come across in the longest time. Here are some gems I have salvaged from that pit of evil:

I kind of feel sorry for this guy.

This stuff is even scarier than your average neighborhood murder. In fact, I think there was a horror movie based on this bundle of eyesores:


Depending on your privacy settings, messages that go into your 'other' folder are usually those which are sent to you by people whom you don't have any mutual friends with. Anyone inboxing you with a mutual friend will probably have their message turn up on your inbox, just like regular messages from your friends do. So this means practically everyone whose message is in your 'other folder' is probably a huge-ass creep with a stalking tendency.

I have never responded to a single other message in my life, and I never plan to. That stuff definitely defines the term 'the scum of Facebook' pretty well. But regardless of the trauma it brings, it also gives you a truckload of entertainment. After the initial shock wore off, I was in tears of laughter!

So guys and girls, if you haven't already, please do check your other messages folder and see the kind of (unwanted) attention being bestowed on you! Make sure you let me know about whatever dirt you have in there. I've heard plenty stories that are way more creepier (and hilarious) than mine, so I'm looking forward to hearing about whatever you've been receiving.

Before I say farewell, here's my personal favorite:

Everything about this perfectly sums up the entire essence of the 'other messages' folder. Also, this particular gem was sent to four people I know... Including my own mother.

TaK3 cArE gUyzz... :o)

Friday, October 18, 2013

The Most Terrifying Moment Of My Life

Like almost every person in this entire world, I have had my fair share of frightening experiences throughout life. Things that have been alarming, such as that one time the fire alarm rang in school (I can't believe I thought I could get away with such a pathetic joke), and that one scary book I just couldn't get over (I had to sleep with the lights on for a year week).

There have only been a few moments in my life when I have almost wet myself in utter terror, and I am about to share one (that's right, only ONE) of those moments with you.

Rather than tell you what exactly happened right in the beginning of this post, I'll just let you discover it for yourself as you read along.

This terrifying moment took place when I was around 9 years old. I had to attend a wedding of lord knows who - I probably can't remember because all that is overshadowed by the vivid recollection of horror I experienced that day - and the venue was outdoors.

Outdoor weddings are a pain in the summertime - everyone's got large and unsightly sweat patches on their fanciest clothes, all the women have their makeup melting off, there are insects buzzing around and the sickening heat of the artificial lights set up everywhere to make it easy for (pseudo)photographers to shoot pictures just puts everyone in a rotten mood.

I know you probably couldn't figure out what this image was the first (and second, third, fourth) time you looked at it, so here's the explanation: it's a bunch of guests under the wedding marquee outdoors, at night.

As you all must know, attending weddings is such a tedious and boring thing to do for practically all 9 year old children. The fact that kids aren't allowed to do anything without their parents and other older relatives snapping at them to "stop running!" "keep quiet!" and "GET YOUR HANDS OFF THE ICE CREAM YOU HAVEN'T HAD YOUR DINNER YET YOU LITTLE SHIT" makes it all the more unappealing.

I was the typical 9 year old at that wedding, bored out of my mind, wanting to get a fancy picture snapped of myself sitting between the bride and groom but not being allowed to, and missing the comfort of my bed and Nickelodeon on TV. I had absolutely nothing to do. The other kids there were strange and weird and ugly so I didn't want to interact with them. The food wasn't served yet, so I couldn't occupy myself with that. All the adults were busy doing boring adult things like pretending to listen to each other and displaying their fake laughter skills.

I decided to find a nice and safe way to entertain myself. I have no idea how my 9-year-old mind worked back then, but I'm pretty sure it was slightly mental, because I made up a ridiculous game of challenging myself to sit on each and every chair in the venue.

Now, there must have been three hundred chairs there. This made the entire situation Fear-Factor-ish. Or Guinness World Record-ish.Would I be able to sit on EVERY chair? How would I sit on the chairs that were already occupied? I had to be stealthy and quick, and wait for everyone to head to the buffet table, or to the bride and groom to congratulate them, so that their seats would be momentarily free in order for me to rest my butt on them for a couple of seconds.

I decided to start right at the end of the venue, and make my way to the front. I imagine I must have looked like a total imbecile changing my seat every second, but my 9-year-old self wasn't conscious of that at all.

What I thought I looked like:

What I actually looked like:

and yes the sky was actually darker in real than in my imagination OKAY

Anyway, I didn't get too far in the game, because something happened.

Something so terrible, so horrendous, so utterly disgusting, that a decade later, I still shudder whenever I think of it.

I was innocently playing my game, still nowhere near the front of the wedding venue, when I felt something land on my shoulder.

It was heavy. It was moving. Without turning my head, I tried to look at it from the corner of my eyes. And that's when I saw the most horrific thing in the entire universe.


It was the largest cockroach I had ever seen in my life. It was a loathsome, hideous, HUGE creature. Black and brown, the size of my palm, waving its foul antennas and legs in the most ghastly way. It was squirming repulsively, like some evil mutant from a sick low budget horror movie. And, a friendly reminder: it was on my goddamn shoulder.

I would have freaked out and ululated my lungs right up by hysterically screaming, but the fear of that... THING... had paralyzed me. I was petrified, sort of like all those poor people who indirectly looked in the eyes of a Basilisk in Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets. My mind was going wild with images of how the abnormally huge cockroach would kill me by slashing my jugular vein with its poisonous leg-claws, or maybe somehow swallow my head up. I wanted to cry for help as loud as possible. But all I could express externally was a tiny, terrified whimper.

I could feel myself getting dizzy and about to faint. Mr. Frickin Huge Cockroach was still relaxing on my shoulder like it was the bloody beach. Not a care in the world for the amount of trauma it was giving to the poor, defenseless girl it had chosen to land on. I thought the horror would never end. But all of a sudden, something unimaginably terrible happened.

That cockroach, emitting a loud buzz (that will forever haunt me in my dreams), jerked around, and WINGS SPROUTED FROM ITS BACK.


Ladies and gentlemen, that was not just once of the largest cockroaches I had ever encountered in my life, but it was also A FRICKIN MUTATED FLYING COCKROACH.

I can't be too sure, but I think I wet myself in terror. That's probably the first and last time I wet myself unintentionally after outgrowing my diaper stage. You can imagine how I was feeling. Or wait, scratch that - NOBODY can empathize with the level of fright I experienced in that moment. I'm calling it a 'moment' because I'm pretty sure all this took place in less than ten seconds, even though it felt like a lifetime to me.

So. Yes. The bloody cockroach had WINGS. It unfurled them and took off right in front of my face. And that's when I got a good look at the fella.

That was not a cockroach, folks. It was something nightmares are made of. I will never forget the (possible) split-second eye contact we made before it spazzed out into the night. That thing was the spawn of the devil. IT WAS THE ANTICHRIST.

original illustration credit

The sense of relief didn't wash over me like I had expected it to. It sort of trickled in, slowly relaxing my tightened muscles and allowing me to breathe little by little, till I felt fairly normal again (but still slightly queasy).

It then occurred to me to get the hell away from the back of the wedding venue, and go straight to the front where the rest of my family was seated. All thoughts about the (lame) game I was playing were wiped from my mind. I'll admit this... I was happy to get out of that situation with my life shoulder intact.

And that, girls and boys, was the most terrifying moment of my life.

Don't you dare laugh at me.


Has there ever been a moment in your life that was a culmination of sheer terror, fear, horror and mortification? LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS AND WE'LL SHARE OUR MISERY!

Till next time, see you later, alligator.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Embarrassing Stuff That's Happened To Me In School

Tripping and falling on the staircase in front of everyone

Being called up to the board to solve a question in the subject I was weakest at (in front of everyone who seemingly knew the answer)

Saliva flying out of my mouth and landing on the person in front of me when I was talking too fast

Letting out an extremely stinky (and noisy) fart in the middle of a silent classroom

Guys, I've got some good news. I'm in University now! It's been a tough journey to get here, but I'm grateful for all the craziness I've had to experience these past few years because it's made me who I am today. Since I've begun a new journey on the educational front, I decided to give a tribute to my pre-home-school days, (when I actually went to a real school) through this blog post. I would love to know your embarrassing moments (maybe just so I can feel a little better about mine), so please do share! Here's to new beginnings and a future of (hopefully) less embarrassing events.

p.s. I've changed my drawing style a little, do you like it?

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

only bloggers will understand

On Twitter...

On Facebook... 

On Blogger... 


Thursday, August 22, 2013

Things I Hate About Chores

I've never really hated household chores. I don't mind dusting, mopping, doing the laundry or the dishes. I think I got my housewife-y traits from my mum. Either that, or I am unknowingly preparing myself for the life I will have to live if my plan of becoming a psychologist doesn't work out.


As I was saying, I don't hate the chores themselves, I hate certain parts of them which are quite often unavoidable. It's the little annoyances that occur whilst doing chores which frustrate (or downright disgust) me, leading me to get irritated and not wanting to do the chores at all.

And what are these little annoyances?

LOL as if i'll tell you yeah right go and guess it yourself ok yolo swag

Read on!

Plates in the sink with food stuck on them

UGH. This is probably the worst. I really wish people would throw their remaining food away before placing their dirty plates in the sink. Especially when it's BONES. Yuck. Imagine washing plates normally:

and then suddenly touching something revoltingly mushy and wet and unrelated to crockery/cutlery!



Wrong products everywhere

My favorite part about cleaning/washing up is the awesome scents of the products. I love classic lemon-scented dish-washing liquid, lavender fabric softener, pine glass cleaner and any flowery air-freshener (except rose). If it's anything other than these, it seems alien and unfamiliar and I loathe using it and it just makes me not want to do any chores at all.

In unrelated news, I think I might have a touch of certain symptoms of OCD.

Cleaning up the entire floor only to notice dirt everywhere else

This happens mostly due to my carelessness. If I'm cleaning a room, I ought to start with dusting/wiping all surfaces such as tables and shelves so that the dust and dirt from it can fall onto the floor and be swept/mopped away in the end. Instead, I end up mopping the floor first and then realize what an idiot I am for doing it. Then I clean the rest of the room and end up mopping the floor AGAIN to clean the mess made. Double work! So annoying and time-wasting. (Like me... *weep*)

This is me, happy that the floor is clean.

And this is me after realizing that the rest of the room isn't clean. (background credit)

Taking clean clothes out of the washing machine and dropping them everywhere by accident

I'm like those people who refuse to take two trips from the car to their house when they have a billion heavy grocery bags with them, in the sense that I hate making two trips from the washing machine to the drying rack. TWO TRIPS ARE FOR WUSSES!!!!! People who can do everything in a single trip/attempt have my respect.

So, as you may have guessed, I always carry a massive load of freshly washed wet clothes to the from the machine to the drying rack in a single trip, causing little things like socks and underwear to topple out and leave a nice trail behind me (which may prove to be helpful someday if I lose my way in my tiny house).

Being someone who actually cares about hygiene a little more than the average person, I can't stand it if clothes are on the floor. Regardless of whether the floor is cleaned regularly or not, I always associate it with germs and diseases and feet. So I freak out and can't wear anything that's been on the floor unless it's washed again.

So basically my 'ONE TRIP ONLY MOTHAAAA!' balloon of pride swelling in my heart is popped by a pin called 'you have to wash all those fallen clothes again, you loser'.


And that's that. Do you have any pet peeves when it comes to chores? Or do you not do any chores at all? (LUCKY MOFOS.) Let me know so that we can compare, and then perhaps open a little support group for crazy people who can't do regular things without finding a million issues in them and whining like silly little girls. (I have a feeling I'll be the only member of that support group.)


Also, my A Level results have arrived. I got an A in Psychology, B in Business and B in Sociology. I'm so relieved that I'm done with one part of my education FOREVER! My University starts in October, and I'm super excited. I'll be continuing Psychology, and I'm ecstatic that I got an A in the subject since it proves that I am capable of studying it. I'm also thankful that I didn't get a C in anything (to be honest, that's all I was expecting...). I worked really really really hard for this. So glad that it paid off. The best part - NO MORE HOMESCHOOLING! WOOHOO! I get to be around people now (I hope my hermit traits don't mess this up)!!!!


Sunday, April 28, 2013

I Was A Cat In The Previous Life

Have you ever sat and thought about the possibility of there being a previous life? If so, have you wondered what you were in that life?


... Well, okay. (I guess this proves that I'm the only weirdo hanging around on Blogspot.)

Anyway. A number of strange incidents have taken place which have got me thinking. MAYBE I'M NOT WEIRD, MAYBE THIS IS ALL THE INFLUENCE OF THE PREVIOUS LIFE ON MY EXISTENCE! (Don't laugh at me.)

What was I in the previous life, though?

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm pretty sure I was a cat.

Yes, a cat. I'm sure most of you expected this, considering the fact that you read the title of this post before reading this line. So stop lauding yourselves on your guesswork skills, please.

And what exactly are these incidents that make me sure that I was a cat in my previous life, you ask? (Perhaps you didn't ask that, but whatever.) I shall reveal two of them to you. Read on:

1. The Day I Ate Cat Food


You guys must be disgusted. But please do not write me off as a psychotic just yet. I'm aware of my strangeness, which makes me a neurotic. So yeah. You can call me a neurotic.


Actually, I can't. But I can definitely tell you what happened.

It all started when, on one fine day, I adhered to my usual routine and took out a fresh tin of cat food to feed my cat.

As I was dolloping the cat food into my cat's bowl, a strange thought occurred to me.

(I've never actually done "hmmmmm", but whatever)

I'm pretty sure I'm not the first person to wonder about this. A study (that may or may not have been conducted in my imagination) states that 75% of pet owners have spared a thought about the taste of the food they were feeding their pets. This means it was perfectly normal for me to wonder whether the duck flavored cat food I fed my cat actually tasted like duck.

Being the impulsive person that I am, I decided to TASTE the cat food. I took a tiny plastic spoon from the kitchen cupboard. Then, I sat next to my cat whilst she was hogging away on the food in her bowl. I moved her aside, stuck the spoon in, took out a chunk of duck, and popped it in my mouth. The scene that followed can be explained through this picture:

That's me, tasting the cat food. That's my cat, staring at me in great indignation and astonishment. (I don't blame her. I would have looked the same way at someone who would have rudely interrupted me while I was eating just to take a bite out of my food without my permission.)

The cat food, unsurprisingly, was tasteless (LOL did you really think anyone was going to make any kind of effort to make animals enjoy their food?). Really. It was like putting a soft block of nothing in my mouth. (This is because cats can't have salt or sugar, so their food is just stuff to fill their tummy, and has no real taste.)

2. The Day I Groomed My Cat

It all started when one day, my cat looked at me in expectation.

Knowing my cat, I figured out that she wanted to be petted. Being the nice, kind and loving owner that I am, I pet her.

The petting was going well. She was purring in contentment.

All of a sudden, another strange thought occurred to me (the first strange thought being about the taste of cat food, for all my dear readers who suffer from short-term memory loss).

Would my cat like to be groomed by me?!

Now, I'm expecting all of you to make weird retching noises whilst reading this. Otherwise you're probably as strange as I am.

I stopped petting my cat. I leaned in, stuck my tongue out, and sort of bonked her on the head with it.

The above picture is slightly misleading. I SWEAR it was just a couple of bonks. Not seven licks. LOL the more I look at that picture, the more creeped out I get. But yes, my cat gave me the 'DAFUQ?!' expression, which made me realize that she probably is satisfied with grooming herself on her own, thank you very much.

Needless to say, I was slightly embarrassed. (And my cat was extremely irritated.)

I can explain myself, though.

You see, I had my cat ever since she was a baby kitten. She's mostly been by herself all these years (3, to be exact), and I couldn't help but wonder whether my cat was deprived of her mum's love or not. I always saw her groom herself and thought to myself, perhaps she would like to be pampered and cleaned by her mum, too. And since her mum wasn't around, the only substitution would be me. I think the fact that I felt a little sorry for my cat contributed to the reasons behind my actions. (Nevertheless, it was still incredibly weird.)


Taking the above events into consideration (there are more, but I'm too lazy to type them down and draw them out), I would like to state that I'm pretty sure all of this means that I was a cat in the previous life. Eating cat food. Attempting to lick my cat. WHAT MORE PROOF DO I NEED?! I have spent much time contemplating what kind of cat I was. A Siamese? Persian? Egyptian Mau? Scottish Fold? A boring Tabby? Using all my knowledge about felines as well as my super-amazing imagination, I have created a picture of what I look like now, and what I'm pretty sure I looked like before (beware: the accuracy of the picture may be too much for your tiny heart to handle). Here:


I'm out.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

How I Snuck Into A VIP Event And Got Hit On By A Celebrity

2018 edit: I had to wipe out the celebrity's face for privacy reasons LOL.
Hello, fellow bloggers!

Allow me to channel my inner Captain Obvious and state: it's been a long time. If there was an award for Most Blogging Hiatuses Ever, I would probably get it.

I hope you guys didn't miss me too much. I've been pretty regular on Twitter though, mostly because it involves just spurts of random stuff and nothing too coherent. I care a lot about you guys which is why I wait for something that I can write a lot about to share with you all, plus I enjoy the feeling I get when I type out something gigantic once in a while. I can't promise you that this 'once in a while' will come sooner and sooner, but believe me, abandoning this blog is definitely not part of the plan - so don't worry!

^ Yeah, that paragraph sounded like something an aunty would write. Whatever. (But it's true, okay)

What I am about to tell you all today, folks, is how I snuck into a VIP EVENT and got hit on by a celebrity (because you know, I can never trust you all to read the title of this post).

So, yes.

It all began when my cousins, brother and I decided to head over the the nearest mall for dinner. We were being raucous and rowdy, as usual (since you know, the concepts of manners and politeness and etiquette do not apply to family members of the same age group).

We headed to the food court, when suddenly, we saw:


(Fatburger is a fast food restaurant chain.)

Apparently, Fatburger launched in Pakistan, in our city, in OUR mall. Which was great news. Because you know, BURGERS ARE GOOD AND FATTENING AND DELICIOUS AND FATTENING AND SCRUMPTIOUS AND FATTENING AND GLORIOUS AND FATTENING.

Also, they're fattening.

But the day we saw Fatburger at the mall was no ordinary day, people. It was apparently the opening of Fatburger, which meant it was a VIP Invite-Only Closed Event. Which meant, the general public would not be able to visit Fatburger that day, but rather, the day after that. Fatburger had invited a bunch of celebrities, ranging from actors, singers, models, politicians, journalists and food critics (though food critics hardly count as celebrities - they're just picky eaters who happen to be snobby). And they would not tolerate any member of the random, lower class public to enter their restaurant, not with such dignified people present.

So, my cousin decided to go there anyway.

As soon as he tried to walk in, he was stopped by some bouncers (YES, THERE WERE BOUNCERS) who were pretending to be macho by wearing tight fitted black t-shirts and sunglasses indoors, at night. *suppresses a snort of laughter*

(yes, there was a red carpet and velvet-rope scene too)

The bouncers stated that Fatburger would be open to the general public the next day, and filthy scum like us would not be allowed to mingle with the famous people at the launch event. Dejected, all of us cousins had to go to the opposite restaurant, which was Gun Smoke.

From left to right: Myself, two of my cousins, my brother, and another cousin.

Regardless of the fact that Gun Smoke is an amazing restaurant with brilliant food, we were all pretty disappointed with how rude the Fatburger people were being. Just so that they could establish their reputation as an upper-class, rich, snobby restaurant, they weren't allowing in the people who they actually NEEDED to serve! After all, with the models' and actors' diets, Fatburger would be a pretty dumb place for them to go (but the fact that half of the people in our media are uneducated and hungry for limelight explains the massive celebrity turnout).

Anyway, my cousin (the one who had approached the bouncer) took the whole thing as a challenge. After we had finished eating dinner, he told all of us that he was going to attempt to...


We thought he was joking. But he actually got up, left Gun Smoke, and stood outside Fatburger, pretending to be busy on his phone. As soon as the bouncers were occupied telling off another member of the general public scum that they weren't allowed into the royal area of the restaurant, my cousin calmly stepped over the velvet ropes and strutted inside Fatburger as if he owned the place.

My other two cousins, brother and I thought that he was going to be kicked out any second. But after five minutes had passed and there was no sign of a scuffle, we were convinced that our brave cousin had achieved the impossible.

Around ten minutes later, my cousin came out of Fatburger and beckoned to the rest of us to come in. Since the bouncers seemed to be interested in acting all macho and looking off towards nowhere - in an attempt to appear nonchalant yet exuding power (and FAILING, if I may add) - my cousins, brother and I also quietly slipped between them, over the velvet ropes and into the restaurant.

Fatburger was absolutely packed. There was no place to sit. Everywhere I looked, there were TV actors and actresses, singers, models that were usually seen on billboards and in magazines, and a bunch of people who looked important and very high-society-ish thanks to their upturned noses.

My cousins and I wandered around the restaurant, pretending to be cool and indifferent. But on the inside, all of us were feeling like:


We were being scrutinized by some of the people in the restaurant. OBVIOUSLY, since everyone had come in formal attire, all of us were looking so out of place in our hoodies and tees. WE WERE THE LOWER CLASS. WE WERE DIRT. SCUM. GUM (stuck on the bottom of an unsuspecting person's shoe). But after one intense glance, everyone looked away. Probably because they assumed we entered with an invitation, which meant we were part of the K3WL G@NG.

Here's some of the madness that took place inside Fatburger (thankfully after we left):

LOL. Look at all these adults, assuming that they're all part of the upper class just because they got to take pictures of a man dancing on one of the tables. Pfffft.

Oh, also:

This COULD have happened if I had stuck around for a while more.

Anyway, it was awesome to be a trespasser for a while. The thrill in the entire affair wasn't that we were amongst people who thought of themselves to be really high and mighty, but rather the fact that we totally gatecrashed and NOBODY NOTICED.

Just as we had had enough of Fatburger and were about to leave, my sight landed on someone.

Someone very familiar. Not because I knew him personally, but because...



His name isn't YAK (these are his initials), but I'm pretty scared that he'll google his name one of these days and read this post and I'll get into heaps of trouble for telling everyone what happened, regardless of how minor it may be (but it isn't minor okay, it's pretty awesome so READ ON, FOLKS).


(Okay, please ignore the above statement. That wasn't me, all right. That was my alter personality who apparently likes to be vocal about one's suppressed cheap thoughts.)

YAK was there, in Fatburger. I watched this drama, called Meri Saheli Meri Hamjoli (My Friend, My Companion) in which he made an appearance for a few episodes (perhaps 20) towards the end. He played a divorcee doctor, looking for a suitable wife to remarry. And there was a massive fight over two friends-cum-sisters-in-law (one, a widow and the other also a divorcee) over him. AND THE WIDOW WON, SORRY FOR SPOILING IT FOR YOU GUYS HAHAHAHA. Here's proof of the fact that he's an actor:

An advertisement for his TV Drama. (The text says: Who will become Umar's bride? Umar being YAK's character)

And a model:

So, yeah. Seeing a celebrity that became a household name in such a short while was pretty overwhelming and exciting, which is why the first thing I did when I saw him was:

I was in a dilemma. To rush to him and beg for his autograph, or to just savor the fact that I was in the same vicinity as him and watch him leave from afar? The former would make for a great experience, whereas the latter would just cause many wistful sighs and thoughts of "what could have been" in the future.

Being the extremely relaxed person and awesome decision maker that I am, I approached him as coolly and calmly as I could.

I asked him to stop (since he was leaving), which he surprisingly did. I mean, seriously, when all you expect from celebrities is being snobby and using hand sanitizer after they brush their tips of their fingers against yours in a feeble attempt to shake hands, someone famous actually STOPPING at your request is quite an unexpected phenomenon.

Good lord, seeing him up close was actually unnerving. I mean, all this while he had been that polite, well-mannered doctor on TV just looking for a sweet girl to marry. And now, here he was (WEARING THE SAME PANTS AS HE HAD WORN IN ONE OF THE EPISODES, IF I MAY ADD), in front of me, with that polite smile of someone expecting you to say something first, and a very, VERY adorable dimple.

I (with a voice that didn't waver, which is an achievement), asked YAK if he was the same guy in the MSMH drama. He said yes (which he didn't need to, but I had to keep that cool I-just-may-not-know-you stance of mine), and that lead me to tell him how much I enjoyed the drama, his character and the entire story. I told him I was a really big fan of his, to which he smiled, and thanked me.


We then proceeded to have general small talk that a star-struck fan and a celebrity would have on any regular day. It involved me asking him a lot of questions, such as:

- HOW OLD ARE YOU?! (23)
- WHY ARE YOU SO HOT? (*embarrassed smile*)

After asking enough questions to fill in a dictionary-sized questionnaire, I thanked him profusely for his time and complimented him on how gracious he was with his (hyperactive and slightly deluded) fan (which, goes without saying, was me). As I turned to leave, I heard...


I wheeled right back to face him. With a half-smile, he said:

"You're really beautiful. Add me on Facebook?"


That, certainly, was unexpected.

I didn't know what to say. After all, it's not everyday that one encounters such situations, nor knows many people who have been through the same. He was looking at me expectantly, so there was not much I could do except... Ask for his Facebook ID. (I ONLY HAD ONE AND A HALF SECONDS TO THINK, OKAY, STOP JUDGING ME.) He gave it to me (so not gonna share it with you guys), and then with a final "lovely meeting you", he left the restaurant. 

I was flummoxed. Flabbergasted. Bamboozled. Stunned. Nonplussed. Astonished (using is addictive, all right?!). Jokes aside, I really was bewildered at the exchange that took place. In all honesty, perhaps he may have not exactly hit on me, but complimenting me and asking me to add him on Facebook translated into something of that sort in my mind at that moment.

So, when I got home, the first thing I did was look him up on Facebook. He was there. I decided to play it cool and add him the next day. I ended up adding him five minutes later (leading the belief I have of myself to be the person with the weakest resolve ever to be enforced a thousand times over). He accepted it within an hour, which made my day (technically it was night, but who cares) brighter than ever!

It's been more than 2 months since this incident has occurred. I have spoken to YAK a few times, and he has been absolutely lovely to talk with. However, I fear the charm and novelty of the entire situation will fade the more and more I converse with him. Hence, there isn't anything more to share with you all (which is great actually, since I'm tired of typing). 

And for all of you who think the entire above story was a figment of my hyperactive imagination (I don't blame you for that, though), here's PROOF!

That's YAK and I in the middle, with two of my cousins, at Fatburger. SO YEAH.


Note to my followers (especially those whose blogs I follow):

I can't make any promises about posting regularly due to A Level examinations looming over my head. However, if any of you know how to contact me (which most of you do, thanks to your ultra creepy stalking skills), PLEASE let me know whenever you publish a new blog post so that I can read it! 

Also, I turned 19 years old on 6th March. I didn't even write a birthday post for myself like I usually do. I'm a terrible person. :(

See you all, hopefully sooner than you think (but probably not).

Love and hugs!